Three Sides To Every Story
by Slasherfem
Summary: Takes place after the Finding Nimo episode. While shooting the breeze on the terrace during the firm's Halloween party, Denny tells Allan about an erotic dream he had.


This was written in cahoots with Pet Leopard, my favorite collaborator. He doesn't write as often as I do, but when he does, it's choice!

TITLE: "THREE SIDES TO EVERY STORY"

AUTHORS: SLASHERFEM & PET LEOPARD

RATING: M

CHARACTERS: DENNY CRANE, ALAN SHORE

PART(S): 1 to 3 OF 3

PART ONE--DENNY'S SIDE

It seemed like an exceptionally warm evening for the time of the season. The Halloween party at the firm of Crane, Poole and Schmidt was a huge success. Everybody was having a great time. Nobody noticed the absence of the two lawyers who had stepped outside on the terrace for a breath of fresh air.

Two men dressed as flamingoes, wearing costumes of flaming pink with big, yellow feet and flamingo heads with cutouts for their faces, sat in comfortable chairs on the terrace and smoked cigars. Their nighttime meetings had become more frequent in the past year. They enjoyed each other's company immensely, despite their differences in age and beliefs. Silently, both men wondered if their respect and admiration for each other was just a little bit beyond what was considered normal for a friendship.

Alan smiled as he turned toward Denny. "You do look splendid in pink," he said with a mischievous smile on his lips.

Denny shook his head and pretended to be angry. "I am not having sex with you," he said gruffly. "I'm still angry with you."

Alan sighed. "I guess that we're pretty much on the same side of the fence in one respect, though; we both believe in the right of the people to debate and disagree openly, and we support a government that defends such freedoms."

"Damn, you got me there." Denny slowly nodded his head as he blew a puff of smoke into the air.

Alan put his arm around Denny. "Let's not talk about politics, Denny. Let's just enjoy the night air."

Denny did not quickly pull away from his grasp, as Alan had expected. He slowly turned to relight his cigar butt. "You know, Alan, the Cranes come from a family which has a long history of dressing up as flamingoes."

Alan laughed as he took another puff. "That's what I like about you, Denny. You're able to act absurd and look ridiculous, but do it with such dignity. You're one in a million, my friend."

Denny cleared his throat nervously. "Er, Alan, speaking of dignity, I meant to bring up a subject that was at best, sort of--how can I put this? Awkward, to say the least. You know that I suffer from Mad Cow, so some things that happened in the past are sort of hazy to me. Anyway, I'm trying to get some kind of rational perspective on what happened during that night of the fishing trip, when we went away to British Columbia. Help me out here."

Alan scratched his chin, pretending to be confused. "Let's see, as I remember it, we cleaned the fish, ate dinner. I talked about Tara. You talked about Shirley. We put together this elaborate plan to get them in the sack together. Then we turned down the lights and went to bed."

Denny's brow wrinkled. "Is that all that happened?"

Alan shook his head. "I don't know what you want to hear, Denny. We woke up the next morning, we had coffee, you shot the fish. Business as usually, basically."

Denny rolled his eyes. "Don't play with me, Alan!" he growled. "We woke up together in the same bed! That much I do remember. Now what happened? I need to know, Alan!"

Alan sighed and paused before speaking. "Oh, dear! This is a ticklish subject. Are you sure that you really want to talk about it?"

Denny's face was turning red. "Damn it, Alan! I need to know! Was my virtue compromised? I will not rest until I know the whole truth!"

Alan scratched his head through the flamingo headpiece. "I think that the least complicated way of addressing the issue at hand is to ask you what you do remember happening on that evening. Tell me your version of what happened after the lights went out and I'll fill in the blanks--fair enough?"

Denny slowly nodded. "Yeah, I suppose. Anyway, here's what I recall. I turned over on my side and closed my eyes. I must have been having some kind of dream or something. But Alan, the whole thing seemed so real! I first felt a warm body next to mine. Then I sleepily rolled over to embrace the image that I perceived. It was this beautiful woman, this really hot babe, a cross between Murphy Brown, Joan Collins and the one-legged chick. Then I heard my name whispered in my ear, ever so softly: 'Denny Crane! Denny Crane! Denny Crane!' I snuggled closer to the sound of the voice. Then I felt her lips sucking playfully at my earlobe. It was ticklish at first, but then it was really quite arousing, and I do mean that in every sense of the word. After sucking on my left earlobe for a while, she switched to my right, which I found just as stimulating.

"Then I felt these delicate, warm and soft fingers working their way down, starting at my chest and working their way down, ever so slowly, ever so sensuously, working their way down, probing, exploring, and pleasuring. I was at full attention even before she reached down there. Then she slowly wrapped her hand around my cock. She grasped me firmly, fully aware of where to touch and how to pleasure me. I was on the verge of--well, you know--when she stopped.

"Then I next felt her wet, sensuous lips licking and sucking me down there. I cried out in absolute ecstasy as she licked and sucked with the perfect combination of movements, tensions, pressures and pleasures. I've been orally pleasured before, my friend, many times over, may I add, but the experience was never quite as intense as what I remember from that night. It's a shame it was all a dream. The next thing I know, I open my eyes and you're lying next to me. Care to offer any explanation, Mr. Shore?"

Alan was silent for a moment. He stared at the ground and turned his head to the side. He turned to Denny and quietly responded. "Very well, Denny. You wanted to know the truth. I will tell you. I do hope that our friendship will not be jeopardized by what I am about to tell you."

PART TWO--ALAN'S SIDE

Alan Shore paused a moment as he thought of how to describe their night together in a way that Denny Crane could understand and accept. You never knew how touchy the old SOB could get if you spoke to him the wrong way. "You see, Denny," he began, "what I remember about that night, after we had that long discussion about how to get Shirley and Tara in bed together, is that after we retired to our separate beds, I was feeling just a little bit horny. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was Tara standing naked before me, her long, red hair cascading over her luscious, supple breasts."

Denny stared at him and unconsciously licked his lips at the thought of Tara's luscious, supple breasts. "And then?" he asked.

"Well, I'm only human, Denny. When I see a beautiful, naked woman standing in front of me, I automatically reach for her, even in my dreams. You see, in my dreams, I have no fear of rejection. So when I reached out to cup Tara's breasts in my hands, she left me hold them while she smiled approvingly." Alan reached out with both hands and mimed cupping a pair of woman's breasts in them.

"And then?" Denny asked a little hoarsely.

"Then I leaned forward and began sucking on her left earlobe, which she always liked. She moaned her approval, so I kept sucking."

"And then?" Denny asked, a lot more hoarsely this time.

Alan smiled and continued his narrative. "I then switched my attentions to her right earlobe and sucked on that while I explored the rest of her body with my hands. Tara's quite slender, with a bit of musculature under her skin, so I was surprised to feel how soft and jiggly she was. I mean, she seemed to be more voluptuous than usual. Her breasts fit quite neatly into the palms of my hands, but in my dream they were enormous. They just overflowed and spilled right out of my hands. They even felt a little fuzzy, as if there were hair on them."

"Hair on her breasts?" Denny stared at him in confusion. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, quite sure," Alan told him and paused before continuing. "Here's where it starts to get weird, Denny. You know how dreams sometimes start out nice and then gradually turn to nightmares? Well, while I was fondling Tara in my dream, as I gradually realized that her slender figure seemed a lot fuller than it did before, and her breasts seemed a lot bigger and even a little hairy, what really got me was when I ran my hand down her belly--which now seemed as swollen as a pregnant woman's--and began fingering her clitoris. All of a sudden, her clitoris began to swell and elongate in my hand, until it was the size and shape of a large cock."

"What?" Denny froze in his chair, his eyes protruding from their sockets in shock.

"I kid you not, Denny. Tara's clit turned into a cock in my dream. But that wasn't the strangest part."

"It wasn't?"

"No, the strangest part is that I kept on playing with it anyway. I stroked it and rubbed it like I do my own cock when I'm alone. I've had plenty of practice since she left," Alan added, a touch bitterly. "I even went down on it and started licking it."

Denny made a grimace of disgust. "Why'd you do that?"

"Well, it may have been a cock, but it was still attached to my girlfriend's body. My ex-girlfriend's body," Alan corrected himself. "So I figured it didn't count as going down on a guy."

Denny still looked a bit squeamish, but he said, "Go on. What happened next?"

Alan shrugged. "What usually happens when you orally stimulate someone to the point of orgasm. She came, very loudly, right in my mouth. I've heard of women who squirt when they come, and even some women who have oversized clitorises that resemble small penises. But I've never heard of any woman with an oversized clit that could squirt like a cock when she comes. But this distorted version of Tara did, and it frightened and excited me at the same time. In fact, it was so frightening that I must have woken up at that point and instinctively went looking for comfort, something warm and cuddly to snuggle up to that wasn't threatening. I guess that's how I wound up in bed with you, Denny."

PART THREE--THE TRUTH (?)

Denny Crane nodded his head slowly. For a moment, he was completely silent. Then he took his cigar out of his mouth and pointed it at Alan.

"You are a very disturbed man, Mr. Shore!" he said in disgust. "Your so-called dream--I think I know what it means, and I don't like it!"

Alan sighed sadly and stared at the tip of Denny's cigar. "Oh, come on, Denny. One of the greatest authorities on dreams, Sigmund Freud, said when asked about the sexual meaning of insignificant items, "Gentlemen, sometimes a cigar is only a--"

Alan never was able to finish his sentence. Denny jumped up and paced excitedly around the terrace, resembling a fattened version of Big Bird in pink during mating season.

"I want answers, Mister, and I want them now! Did you or did you not suck my cock?"

Alan turned away from Denny for a moment to stare at the moon. When he slowly turned back to Denny, there seemed to be a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Denny, as we both know to be true, especially in our line of work, it is the simple fact that things are not often as they seem to be. I mean, a lot of testimony that we hear from witnesses on the stand is simply a version of point of perspective. Two people in the same room viewing the same event could tell two entirely different stories. Who can tell which is true? Do you follow me here, Denny?"

Denny's face reddened. Now he resembled a constipated version of Big Bird, dressed in pink. "Mr. Shore, we're not debating the constitutionality of Brown versus--ah, Brown versus--oh, whatever! I'm just asking you one simple question, which involves a yes or no answer: Did you or did you not suck my cock?" Now Denny was getting loud.

Paul Lewiston, who just happened to be standing near the terrace doors, turned around abruptly with a look of horror on his face. Alan quickly strutted to the doors and nonchalantly whispered in Paul's ear: "Don't worry, he just had a little too much to drink."

As Paul exited, Alan quietly closed the terrace doors behind him. He slowly walked towards Denny, put his arm around him and discreetly escorted him away from the doors. "Denny, the truth is that not all seemingly simple questions can be resolved by an abrupt 'yes' or 'no' answer. I like to think that there are three sides to every story: your side, my side, and the truth."

Denny's eyes narrowed. "And what does all that have to do with whether you sucked my cock or not?"

Alan continued undeterred, as if he expected such an unpleasant interruption from Denny. "My friend, the issue as to whether I sucked your cock or not is a rather presumptuous one at best. It brings up a more immediate question, which needs to be addressed first: Was your cock really, truly and genuinely sucked during the aforementioned incident? If you can prove to me, Denny Crane, by matter of evidence which is plain, true and indisputable, that your cock was sucked, then we could return to the secondary issue as to who it was who sucked your cock. Perhaps if your cock was really, truly and genuinely sucked, it is not impossible that an unknown third party could have intervened. I saw how that fishing tour guide was looking at you, my friend. After all, he did have his own set of keys to our cabin, you know."

Denny threw his hands up in the air. "Now wait a minute here! Now you're confusing me! We first have to establish as to whether my cock was really sucked or not, and then if and only if it was--damn it to hell, I don't even want to think about it!" Denny put his head in his hands, on the verge of crying, his flamingo head dipping down as if to feed.

Alan slowly drew closer to comfort his friend. "Denny, you know it is a strong possibility that both of us were manifesting our fantasies and acting them out. Parts of what we experienced might have been imagined."

Denny looked up, hopeful for a moment. "You mean to say that the horny guide did not hop into bed with me and suck my cock?"

Alan laughed. "I rather doubt that it happened that way, Denny. Here's what I think happened: You were dreaming about your own idealistic version of your perfect fantasy girl at the same time that I was dreaming about Tara."

Denny's eyes bulged. "Go on!"

Alan paced around slowly, somewhat resembling a college professor. "Sometimes, you know, it is not impossible for two men who share the same room, sleeping in separate beds, of course, to have dreams of a sexual nature at the same time."

Denny nodded his head, seeming to accept that explanation. However, he soon wrinkled his brow worriedly. "But what about the hair on the breasts, the big belly and the clit that turned into a cock?"

Alan sighed. "All this falls within the realm of reality distortion during the normal REM dream cycle."

Denny slowly scratched his chin. "So let me get this straight, Alan. My dream about the sex goddess caused me to jerk myself off and come. You just happened to be dreaming of a freakish version of Tara who had hairy breasts, a fat stomach and a cockish clit at that exact same moment. The dream understandably disturbed you and you crawled into bed with me because you needed some sense of security. Do I understand you correctly?"

Alan once again stared at the man, trying to understand Denny's explanation. Slowly he nodded his head as his face broke into a broad smile. "Yes! That's exactly what happened! Whew, I'm glad that we finally got that resolved. Now let's go back inside. I noticed how Shirley was looking at you through the window a moment ago. You know how she gets when she has a drink or two."

Alan started to walk towards the terrace doors. Denny stopped him by lightly holding his arm. "Wait just one minute, Alan! One thing still bothers me here. If I was having a wet dream, then why was there no cum on my pajamas or on the sheets?"

Alan, obviously caught off guard, paused to collect his thoughts.

"Well, Mr. Shore?" Denny demanded, his eyes bulging.

"Yes, Denny, there is a very plausible explanation here," Alan said as a bead of sweat came down his forehead. "Perhaps you were having a sexual dream. However, you did not come during its' completion. Perhaps, subconsciously, you were saving yourself for the day when your fantasy girl or someone else who you deeply care about would lie next to you. What do you think, Denny?"

Alan, near exhaustion, collapsed on the chair next to the ledge. He knew that he would have to tell Denny the real truth if his friend questioned him any further. He slowly turned toward Denny, hoping and praying that such a thing would not be necessary.

Denny puffed his cigar slowly. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," he muttered.

Alan wrinkled his brow. "I don't quite understand."

Denny smiled reassuringly. "Yes, my friend, now that I think about it, everything you said makes perfect sense."

Alan wiped his forehead with his pink costumed arm. "So you're not angry, right? I mean, we're still friends?"

Denny laughed. "Yes, certainly. Don't be silly."

Alan slowly got up off the chair. "So, we're still on for fishing this Saturday, right?"

Denny nodded. "Of course! Same cabin. I'll bring extra buckshot for my gun. There's only one thing that bothers me, though."

Alan turned pale. "And what might that be, Denny?"

Denny faced Alan directly and whispered to him. "Are you sure--I mean, absolutely sure without a shadow of a doubt, that the horny guide won't try and suck my cock?"

Alan laughed. "I'll protect you from the horny guide. I won't let anybody touch you, my friend."

He put his arm protectively around Denny and the two flamingoes slowly waddled towards the terrace doors.

THE END

9


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